Winging It
by Fighterr
Summary: A girl is mysteriously thrust into the lives of the Newsies. Will she be able to conceal her true identity, and help her friends? Or will she leave New York heartbroken and guilty? Bad at reviews, please R&R! Not your average time travel fic.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE-**

** Hey guys, I'm Fighter, and this is my new fanfic. I don't know if there are still any newsies around, but if you are there, please read this and please please review. I want to keep this fandom alive and breathing. This story is a little hard for me to get out and write because unfortunately this first chapter are based on very recent events of my life (I love men) and yeah. I'm rambling. I don't know. I don't own the Newsies. Enjoy**

"Please, baby, please just listen to me," Mack groveled, his pleading eyes shining.

"Did you not hear me when I said drop dead?" I remarked back, rolling my eyes. "What's done is done, Mack. Now please, kindly fuck off and never talk to me again. Thanks."

"It was a mistake, Elena. A huge, horrible mistake. It's been eating me up inside, ever since that night. When I went on to Facebook and Instagram and tried to call you and I realized you blocked me from everything- I'm going crazy here, babe. Please just talk to me."

"Mack," I began, acid dripping from my mouth. "I gave you a second chance when you came back two months after breaking up with me. I forgave you when you said you just needed a time apart to clear your head. I got that. But, when I walked into that party, and saw you with your ex- you holding her, and, and kissing her- and I just- I hate you, Mack. I honest to God don't care what happens to you. I gave you a fucking second chance, and if you weren't planning on staying in my life, then why the fuck would you come back in?"

He looked shock, standing there with his blue eyes wide. I guess he had expected me to take him back in the end like I did last time. I think I surprised us both with my response. I was shaking with anger.

"Babe-"

"No, fuck you, Mack. I am not your babe." I turned around from him. "I never will be, ever again."

"Elena, wait!" He shouted, grabbing my wrist. I didn't even miss a beat, I spun around and punched him straight in the nose with the arm he wasn't holding. A satisfying crunch of bone echoed through the air.

I turned away, walked on, and never turned back. It was a short walk from campus to my apartment. The streets were quiet and tree lined. Mack must have followed me all day in order to get me alone after class. Fucking pathetic little creep he was. I sighed, just wanting to move from him. I had blocked him from my life in order to move on, especially after that night. The night when I had walked into his frat's party and saw him with the one girl that hated me most in the world with no cause.

She was a psycho bitch. I was over 800 percent sure that the only reason she was there was because she knew Mack and I were back together. She was a conniving, evil girl and they truly deserved each other. I remember the look of satisfaction on her face when she saw my heart break. And then she had to make it worse by trying to fight me. Like for real, bitch? I didn't fight over toys on the playground as a kid, there was no way I was going to start as a sophomore in college.

I shook my head as I unlocked my apartment and stepped in. My apartment was lonely and sad, a bit like me. I enjoyed being alone, but not in a moment like this. I felt vulnerable and angry and all I really wanted was someone I could confide in, someone I could cry to. But, it looks like it was just me tonight.

I checked the clock, and saw that it was only seven. I sighed, and changed into my running gear- black leggings, white tennis shoes, baggy black shirt, but no phone or iPod. I hooked my apartment key onto my sports bra, and walked outside once more.

I got about three miles away when I started to get paranoid. I kept feeling like there was someone watching me, but it was only me and the traffic of those with evening agendas. I hit the pavement harder as I continued the run. I vaguely remember recognizing Mack's as the driver of the SUV that connected with my body. And then, everything was black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Fighterr here. This is gonna be a bit short, but it's just before getting started into the meat of the story. Please R&R. **

The first thing I recognized when I fluttered into consciousness was the smell of hot, mucky air. It burned my nose and I gasped to breath in through my mouth. It was dirty, and smelly- reminding me of my summer I spent in the city interning. But, that was impossible. Yale didn't smell like New York City. Yale smelled like weed and stress.

"Oddio!" A woman gasped as I opened my eyes. I let out a yelp when I realized I was in a twin bed with white sheets in a strange apartment I had never been before. The floors were wood, the walls were white, and the woman in front of me looked somewhat relieved. She was visibly pregnant, had dark features, and was wearing some kind of 1900's costume. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I began to cough violently, and realized right away something was amiss with my ribs.

"Certo, certo," The woman murmured, grabbing water from a table. I welcomed it. She studied my face as I drank.

"Parli italiano, ragazza?" She asked. I nodded feebly as I looked at her.

"Si, grazie." We were silent. I spoke up again.

"Cosa successo?" What happened?

"Well," She began in Italian. "I found you in the little alley next to my apartment. It was right after my husband left for work, around 5 in the morning, and I heard whimpering from outside. I spotted you, so I ran outside to see if you were okay.

"You were unconscious, and bleeding very badly from your ribs and your head and arms. You were dressed in some kind of undergarments, and there was shattered metal around you. I took you in and called the doctor, and you have been asleep for three days."

"Tre giorni?" I repeated, aghast. That means I had missed two exams, and that was so not cool. But, wait. Where was Yale and why was this woman dressed like my great grandmother?

"Si, è vero."

Was it true? Was any of this true?

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Little Italy, in New York City."

Did Mack really run me over with his car, and bring me all the way to New York City to die? I know he hated me, but that was a bit excessive. How did I end up here?

"What's your name, little one?" She asked, noticing I was visibly upset. I looked in her brown eyes, and I didn't detect any kind of crazy that I was expecting.

"Elena. Elena Strazzulla."

The woman's eyes narrowed at me like I was lying. I guess I thought 'not crazy' a bit too soon.

"What?"

"You're Sicilian." She uttered the sentence at me. I mean, yeah I was. I was born in Palermo and I lived there until I was 8. I was about as Sicilian as American citizens could get.

"Well, yes. Does it matter? What's your name?"

"Yes, it matters! I will never have a mafiosa in my house. You may kindly leave right away."

My mouth opened in shock. No one still acted like this, not since the 80's. The mob had been practically shut down by the time I had reached America.

"I'm not a mafiosa! I was born in Palermo and I moved here as an immigrant after my parents died. I'm an orphan, not a mob boss, for Christ's sake." I remarked at her back, my eyes welling up with tears. I was emotional, and God knew I had a reason. I had been attacked by my ex, left to die in an alley, and was now recovering in a woman's apartment who probably thought cell phones were demonic.

"Oh, no cry! No cry!" She said in English, running to my bedside. "That was rude, you are an Italian and you have no parents, I take care of you, shhh," She held me, and to my surprise, it felt like home. Real home. I began to cry harder.

After my little episode, she wiped the tears off of my face. "My name is Francesca Bartolotti. You are welcome to stay here. My husband is a baker, and his name is Salvatore. I'm sorry for my words."

I nodded at her apology, still confused at my entire situation. I needed to figure out where I was, where Mack was, and how he had gotten away with attacking me. I spotted a newspaper on a dresser.

"Francesca, could I read that newspaper?" I asked.

"You can read?" She asked, incredulous. I looked at her like she was insane.

"Um… yes…." Was my only reply. She shrugged, still staring at me. She got up and handed me the newspaper.

I unfolded it, and read the title.

**Il Giornale del New York City. 19 May 1899. **

"Is this a joke? Some kind of gag gift?" I asked Francesca, shaking the newspaper in my hands.

She looked at me like I was crazy.

"No, why? Do you prefer The World?"

I read the title again and again. I was crazy. I was going crazy.

And just like that, I fainted again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to newsiesofchicago and Nicely Nicely's Little Sister for reviewing! You guys are awesome. Thank you! Alright here we go, back to 1899…**

"She just fainted again, I'm not sure. She says she can read," Francesca whispered. Salvatore looked alarmed.

"She's beautiful, though, no?" Sal responded. It sounded like Francesca hit him.

"Oh… oh no… Sal, do you think she is a prostitute?" Francesca panicked. At this point, I decided to open my eyes. They both rushed to my bedside when my eyes open. Damn it, I was still in this weird subconscious coma thing. I've decided that's the only way any of this makes sense. I got hit by Mack's car, I must have been hit really hard, and now I was in a coma. Duh. Perfect sense.

How do you tell if you are dreaming… I stared at the bed trying to get some knowledge back. You would think a 17 year old prodigy that attends Yale would have some kind of knowledge to draw back on, but the only advice I could recall was from Teen Wolf- if you can't read, or if you have extra fingers you were in a dream.

Clearly the reading thing was out the door already, I had read the fake newspaper title. I glanced down swiftly at my hands and- yep. All ten fingers were present and accounted for. I sighed, defeated.

I had three options- either I was crazy, I was in a weird afterlife situation, or I had been kicked back into the past. The third one was the least morbid, so I decided to play along with this weird situation. If I was dead or crazy, it would have to end at some point. I would like go to heaven or hell or some shit, or I would wake up in a white room with a straight jacket on. But, even if I was to believe in stuff like time travel, I wasn't sure that ever ended.

I felt normal, you know? Like all solid, and I noticed things I noticed at home. How my body was sore and I felt injured, how my hair felt disgusting and knotted, and how I was naked. I was naked!

"Where are my clothes?" I yelped in Italian. Francesca rushed over to me with a pile of my stuff, while Sal averted his eyes. I ripped through the pile- it was all there. My trusty pair of running leggings were there with one frayed knot at the knee, bloodstained. My sports bra was also bloodstained, but was still the same one I was wearing. My shirt was unrecognizable- it was like shredded, and wet with blood that had not yet dried. My white Nikes and socks were no longer white, but had been tainted by my blood. Francesca approached me as one would approach a tiger.

"And this," She said, handing me all that was left of the "shattered metal". And all that was left was the home button on my iPod. The giant white circle that had play/pause/next/back. Attached to absolutely nothing, it sat in my hand, mocking me with it's horrible futuristic taunting. My palm closed around it.

"I think I got hit by a carriage. The man who I was supposed to marry was angry with me when I denied him," The lies came falling out of my mouth, I wasn't really sure where they came from. "This must have fallen off the carriage."

They nodded in sadness, but their eyes urged me on. They believed what I was saying.

"I am not a prostitute," I said, making eye contact with Francesca. "But, I am far from home. Far from Palermo. My family is dead, I have no one. I have no job, I don't know this city- it's like I'm from a, from a different-"

"Time and place," Sal completed my sentence, nodding sadly. I stared at him, alarmed. Did he know something I didn't? "I felt the same way when I moved here from Naples."

"And I, too, when I moved from Rome," Francesca added. "But very quickly, you adjust."

"Adjust or die," Sal and I whispered at the same time. We stared at each other in surprise. Did we just have a moment?

"See? You're already starting to fit in!" Francesca joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Elena, this is Salvatore."

"Piacere," Sal stated, moving towards me. He dropped pane cafone, the signature bread from Naples, into my lap. "It's not pane semolina, but it is the best I can do."

I smiled at him, a true genuine smile. To him, I was a poor immigrant girl who had gotten herself into trouble. I wasn't a time traveling freak with a psycho ex boyfriend. I was just a fellow Italian that fell into their lives.

"Thank you," I whispered, before digging into the bread. Holy mother of God, I was starving. Time traveling/murder attempts really wore a girl out.

"Sal and I talked," Francesca started. "We want to help you. We want you to heal, and we want you to be okay."

"We want you to live with us until you are better, and then we will help you find a job."

"But, you see with the baby on the way, we would invite you to stay forever, but we have another mouth to feed, you know," She looked ashamed. I swallowed the bread.

"No! No. I understand. This is okay. You need to be focused on the baby, and not a stranger. You have already been so kind to me, please don't worry-" I rushed the words out of my mouth, but then Sal held up his hand.

"Elena, we have made a plan. You can become part of this family, yes of course, but we have a plan for you, and you will have to trust us. This America, this dream, is not so golden as we saw from Italy. You have to fight to survive."

I stared at him, his dark eyes that were full of betrayal and hardened by his lessons learned. He looked like a young, haunted Al Pacino. He and Francesca were a hot couple, but that was probably weird for me to think. They were as old as my great grandparents!

"We have a neighbor family. They are from Southern Italy, Calabria," Calabria was pretty close to Sicily. I immediately wanted to meet them. "They have two boys, 18 and 20. They are nice, hard working boys who don't want to be in the mafia. This, you see, is surprising here. Every young kid wants to commit crimes and have blood on their hands to make money. But, these two boys want to work for their money.

"They work in Manhattan from Mondays to Saturdays selling newspapers, and living in a house together. Then, on Sundays, they come back to their families and go to church, and eat, and have fun. This is the plan for you."

"But, I'm not a boy," I started out. "Isn't it a bit hard for women to get these jobs, nowadays?" I asked, recalling all the horrible treatment of women I had read about in history textbooks.

"No," Francesca began. "You are not a boy, but… It doesn't mean anyone else has to know that." She grinned, a bit mischievous. Sal mimicked her expression.

"After you heal, we are going to dress you in my old clothes," Sal began. "We are going to teach you how to talk like a man, walk like a man, sell like a man- and then we disguise you. We tell our neighbor family on a Sunday that you are my distant cousin from Sicily, coming to the US to find a new life. And we say that you want to sell newspapers. Then, bada bing, you are a newsboy."

I had to hold back my laughter at his use of bada bing, which made him sound scarily like Robert De Niro. The plan was somewhat brilliant, and especially if these people were used to the times. But, the whole me living in a men's lodging house for six days at a time was a bit unnerving.

"I like the plan," I began slowly. "But I am nervous about living in a boy's house for six days at a time."

"Of course," Sal nodded his head vigorously. "But, you just have to be careful. Never let your hat come off your head, sleep far away from others if you can, and always go to the bathroom alone. You can bathe on Sundays, here."

I almost winced, but I stopped myself. Not bathing here was normal. That was a thing, so I had better catch on. I thought hard for a moment.

"Yes," I agreed. "I can do this."

Francesca and Salvatore beamed at me like happy parents. I sighed. I had apparently gone back in time, and had already found a family that I would have killed for in modern times. It was strange. But, I was going to ride it out.

Why not?


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Here's another chapter for you. Please R&R! **

_WHY! Why did I agree to this? _I asked myself three days later. It was a Friday, and since I had been able to move today, I was practicing being a boy. Francesca had dressed me in Sal's clothes, tied down my chest with a bandage, and was now trying to fix my voice.

"No!" Francesca commanded. "Lower, like you have a cough in your throat. Say something in English, and try using an accent like they have here."

I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I had been speaking only Italian for my time with them, so my English wasn't fantastic today. And, it's not like I would know what their accents sounded like because I hadn't been able to leave the apartment. Not until it was time for me to be a boy could I leave the apartment. Sal and Francesca didn't want to set off any alarms with the neighbors, or let any kind of connected people know that I was a Sicilian. And according to Sal and Francesca, there was no safety if you were a girl on your own here.

"Hey dere," I said. "Wanna purchase some newspapers?" I said in a pathetic attempt at a New York accent. Francesca burst out laughing and couldn't stop. I promptly broke out in laughter.

"First," She said once she caught her breath. "Is the Italian accent might have to work for you. It's going to be incredibly difficult to get rid of, but I'm sure it will fade in time. Secondly, you got a good pitch on that one. But, you have to be less formal, principessa. You sound like a lawyer!"

I grinned, and tried again. This went on for a good hour, until we heard a knock at the door. We look at each other with panic in our eyes, and I dove into the bedroom, barely peaking around the door as she answered it. It was a very plump woman holding a basket.

"Francesca!" She exclaimed, grabbing her into a hug. "Sal told me this morning that you have a cousin staying with you. I've come bringing gifts for him. How old is he? Can I meet him?"

"Oh, Paola, please come in." Francesca said, practically cringing. When Paola was in front of her, she mouthed "big mouth" and shook her head. I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. "Yes, we do have a cousin staying with us. But, he isn't feeling great today. You know, he's very worn out."

"Oh, nevermind that. What's his name? Tell me all about him," Paola said, sitting down and helping herself to a pastry she had brought. Francesca sat down, a small secret smile playing at her lips.

"His name is Enzo," She began. I raised my eyebrows from my hiding spot. Enzo? Really? Did I look like an Enzo when I was a boy? "And he is 17." At least that part I wouldn't have to lie about.

"No wife picked out for him yet?" Paola asked, leaning forward. I practically hit the floor. Damn, this woman went straight to the point.

"Oh, no. I found my Salvatore without having an arranged marriage, and we are very much in love. I hope the same for Enzo." Francesca said, and Paola tipped up her nose a little bit.

"Now, Francesca, you know that is very rare." Paola began, haughtily. "But, I want to set up Enzo to meet with my precious Agostina. I think that it would be a proper welcome to America."

"Oh, yes," Francesca said, not making eye contact. She must have offended Paola, which didn't look like a good thing. "As soon as Enzo feels better, we should have them meet."

"Perfect," Paola huffed happily. "I'm sure they will get along. I better be going, I have so many things to do. I am such a busy woman. But, first, can't I take a little peak at Enzo sleeping?"

She was already getting up and moving, so I panicked. I jumped into bed, straightened my hat, and pretended to snore. Just in time, as Paola was now barging into the room as Francesca followed frantically. Paola got closer and closer to me.

"Oh, isn't he a handsome fellow?" She whisper screamed. "Beautiful skin, but a bit skinny. We need to fatten him up, don't we Francesca? Make him eat the things I brought over, and have him drink plenty of wine. You don't want him wasting away, do you?"

"Of course not, Paola," Francesca responded, her voice soft as if she didn't want to wake poor sleeping Enzo.

"Alright, I'll be back next week to make a time for them to meet. Ciao, amica." Paola stated, stomping out the door. I jumped out of bed as soon as the door shut.

"She's horrible!" I yelped. Francesca shook her said sadly and laughed.

"Yes, she is. But, she's a very powerful woman in this community. Her husband is involved in the mafia, so she has a sense of entitlement. And if you think she's bad, just wait until you meet her precious Agostina." She practically spit. "We have to be very careful around them. Very careful."

"Sure," I nodded my understanding. "If she's coming back next week, I better become a newsboy on Monday."

"What?" Francesca looked panicked. "But, but we've only just begun, and what if you still walk like a princess? What if they know you're a boy? What if you get killed? What if you-"

"Francesca," I interrupted. "I promise I will be fine. We've been working together, and we will just have to practice tonight and all of tomorrow. We can do this. Don't worry," I said, hugging her.

"I'm scared for you," She whispered. "For us."

I nodded my understanding, and I looked into her light brown eyes.

"It's going to be okay," I began, sounding a hell of a lot calmer than a time traveling freak should. "We are family now, and we can get through this."

"We are family," She repeated, grabbing my hand. "Every Sunday, you promise you will come back? You won't forget about me?"

I didn't realize how lonely she must be. Sal left for the bakery at 5 in the morning, and didn't come back until 8 at night. They loved each other, but it was clearly hard for her to be alone in a country that wasn't hers. Maybe she needed me as much as I needed her. Either way, our friendship had grown strong in the past few days, and it would be sad to leave her.

"Of course not." I stated. "I will always be here for you. You and Sal are stuck with me, especially as soon as you pop out a cute baby for me to play with."

"Alright," She laughed. "Let's try this again, Enzo."

I pulled my cap further down on my head, and reached for a hand towel on the counter.

"Hey lady," I said in English, my voice deep. "Wanna buy a paper?"

"Victory!" She shouted, clapping. "When Sal comes home, we can start practicing your walk."

We spent the rest of the night, and the rest of Saturday practicing until I felt more masculine than I ever had in my entire life. On Sunday morning, they went to mass together and left me at home to keep me away from Paola and Agostina. But, the plan was to talk to the family from Calabria, the family Verduci.

When they returned, they got me dressed in my newsboy outfit. We handled my long black hair by braiding it, pinning it underneath my hair, and then greasing it all back. With a brown cap on top, my chest bandaged down, and my two sizes too big outfit, I looked like a real boy. A real boy with clear skin, good eyebrows, and feminine cheekbones, but a boy nonetheless. The Verduci family had invited us over for dinner to meet me, and for the sons to give me advice on being a newsboy. I felt confident as ever until we got in front of their door.

My heart was beating fast and I was sweating. I grabbed Francesca's hand and she squeezed mine reassuringly. Sal smiled at me, and slapped me on my back like I was the son he never had. I took a deep breath, and before I knew it, the door was opening to reveal two handsome, black haired boys dressed like I was.

"Hey dere," Said the shorter one in English.

"Benvenuti," Said the taller one in Italian.

I nodded, as my voice wouldn't work. Sal and Francesca greeted them with smiles and hugs.

"This is Enzo," Sal said to the boys.

"Antonio," Said the shorter one. "But most of my friends call me Racetrack."

"Domenico," Said the taller one. "But, my friends call me Bumlets."

"Piacere," Was all my voice could get out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to the guest review! I love reading what you guys have to say, and it definitely gets me motivated! Thanks for the support. It's a bit of a short chapter, so sorry about that. Please read on, and as always, R&R. –Fighterr**

Within moments, we were all squished around a round, wooden dinner table. I was elbowed between the boy named Racetrack and Sal. I tried my best to look nonchalant and manly, but I'm pretty sure I was failing miserably. So I did what anyone would do- stay as silent as possible and pray they couldn't smell fear.

"So Enzo," began Mrs. Verduci. "Salvatore and Francesca told us this morning that you are from Sicily."

I nodded my response, and was grateful we were speaking in Italian.

"We are from Calabria," Mrs. Verduci went on. "So we're close to Sicily. Have you been to Calabria?"

"When I was little, yes Signora." I said, my voice deep. "My parents took me before they died."

The table went quiet, and it became awkward. I hadn't mentioned it as Enzo's story, but it was my own story. Those weekends on the seaside when I was little were beautiful memories for me. I hadn't even meant for them to slip out.

"I'm very sorry to hear of your parents," Mrs. Verduci said. I waved her away.

"I am very lucky to have Francesca and Sal looking out for me. That's the beautiful thing about Italian families, we're big like an army, but always looking out for each other," I responded, my voice still deep. I was getting more comfortable being Enzo. Maybe if I could stop freaking blushing every time Bumlets looked at me.

Mr. and Mrs Verduci nodded in robust agreement. Francesca looked at me with love and pride, and Sal slapped me on the back again.

"You seem to have your heart in the right place," Mr. Verduci began. I realized what this meant- my sob/success story had convinced him of my anti-mafia motives. Interesting. "So, Domenico, you guys will show Enzo here the ropes tomorrow, si?"

"Yes, Papa," Domenico responded in Italian. He turned to me. "We will leave around 4 in the morning, and we'll walk to Manhattan. We'll give you some pointers on the way, and then we'll start selling right away. During the break between the morning and afternoon edition, we can get you set up in the lodging house with us."

"Thank you," I responded, my eyes on the table before me. "I appreciate your help."

"Anytime," He responded warmly. I was blushing, I was sure of it. I hadn't been in this close proximity to guys since Mack. It was nerve racking.

"Yeah, you'se gets to meet all the guys," Racetrack broke in with English. "You'll like em. Nice quality people, not like dose crooked Sicilian rats, huh?"

"Antonio!" His mother reprimanded. He shrugged.

"You know what I'se mean. Not all Sicilians are like dat, just some of em."

"No offense taken," I replied in English.

The dinner continued quietly, it mainly consisted of the adults reminiscing about the old country. For the most part, none of the things they were talking about had changed over the past 100 years. It was one of the beautiful, cultural things about Italy. The tradition of it all never really changed.

We left around 9 in the evening back to our apartment. We spent the next hour getting me ready to go in the morning. I was surprisingly sad to leave them- I had grown attached to them already. It was for the best, though- I tried to convince myself. We settled in to sleep that evening, and I was ready to sleep fitfully, if at all.

After a rough night, Salvatore awoke me at 4. He put a finger to his mouth, and knelt down beside my bed. He handed me a knife in a holder I could wrap around my leg, discreetly.

"You are like my daughter now, Elena," He whispered. "I'm giving you this- don't tell anyone, not even Francesca, that you have it. New York is dangerous, principessa. If anyone finds out you're a woman, there will be danger for you. Keep this on you at all times, just in case. I don't want you hurt. You're one of us now."

I hugged him violently, my eyes watering. No one had ever cared about me like this with the exception of my parents. Even though I was terrified to live in a lodging house with boys, the gift made me feel safer. When I got up to move, Sal held my shoulder.

"One more thing," He said, reaching for around his neck. He retrieved a gold chain with a small saint on it. "San Francesco."

"Sal," I began, eyes watering again. "That's my patron saint. But, please don't give this to me, this is your-"

"Elena, my parents gave this to me when I moved to America alone, too. It's good luck, take it."

"Thank you," I breathed, hooking it around my neck.

I got dressed with the help of Sal, and before I knew it, I looked like a total boy. I opened the door of the apartment just in time for Racetrack and Bumlets to exit theirs.

"Buongiorno, Enzo," Bumlets proclaimed, greeting me.

"Youse look like shit, Enzo," Racetrack said, eyeing me.

"Good morning, Racetrack," I said sarcastically in English. Bumlets smirked and Racetrack glared at me sleepily.

Bumlets and I talked cheerily on the way there, or as cheerily as I could act considering I felt like throwing up. Racetrack was moody, and kept a cigar in his mouth the whole way. When we neared the place where we were apparently going to buy papers, Racetrack's mood increased significantly. He was practically skipping when we got to the line.

The line. Of boys. The line of boys. The line of boys who were all incredibly attractive, muscular, and dirty. I halted without even knowing it. Bumlets smiled encouragingly at me, and pushed me forward with him. I was pushed forward by an attractive male, into a line of attractive males, while they thought I was an attractive male. I almost giggled madly, but held it together. I was Enzo now, I was cool and Italian and very manly. Enzo didn't giggle.

But I couldn't help but think to myself, _If only Mack could see me now. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! I hope someone is still reading this story, because I plan to keep updating like this! Please please R&R –Fighterr**

Within minutes, I had been introduced to a dozen or so boys- Mush, Blink, Specs, Skittery, Crutchy, David, Les, and more. Apparently, the Jacobs brothers- Les and David- were in the same boat as me. They had just become newsboys days prior. It made me feel better that they were still smiling, and you know. Still alive.

Bumlets and Race walked me up towards the front of the line, towards their "leader". He would make the final call on if I could stay, and who I would sell with. I swallowed my nervousness, and put on an air of confidence, just like I had done during sorority rush. How bad could he be compared to the spoiled girls of Yale?

"Heya, Jack," Race began. They shook hands.

"Heya, Race. How was da races last night?" He replied. I was confused. He didn't go to the races last night.

"You know dat hot tip I told youse about?" He responded. Jack nodded. "Yeah, wells, nobody told da horse." They both cracked up laughing.

"Hey dere, Bum," Jack said, nodding towards Bumlets. "What did youse do last night?"

"Same thing as always," He said grinning. "Bumming in the bars, getting drinks from the city's finest."

Jack laughed, "You two could be related for all I'se know,"

I was steadily more confused. They were related. And they had spent last night with their parents and me. I didn't let the confusion show on my face.

"Dis here," Racetrack said, slapping me on my back. "Is one fresh off da boat. He's from Italy, wants a job heah, he was a cousin of me motha."

"Name?" Jack said, now interested. He was handsome, and stood with an air of power and confidence one only got with years of experience. His eyes were a warm, melting brown, and his skin was darkened by dirt. He wore a red bandana around his neck, which nowadays would have been a little too gangster to wear in public. He had muscular forearms, and big, strong hands that were worn.

"Enzo," I said deeply. He nodded.

"Do youse think youse gots what it takes to be a newsie?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "I can be a newsboy."

"A newsboy?" He guffawed loudly. "Well, well hoity toity, huh?"

I stuck my jaw out, and looked down on him. How was I freaking supposed to know you weren't supposed to call it a newsboy? That's what Francesca and Sal called it. I was silent. Bumlets looked at me with frightened anticipation. Jack's mood decreased instantly.

"So what, kid?" He said, leaning closer into me. "Youse got what it takes to lie to sell, steal to eat, and fight to live?"

"Yes." He got closer into my face, his voice getting lower in volume. I didn't flinch.

"You sure about dat?"

"Care to try me?" The words came out of my mouth faster than I could stop them, and they were dripping with acid. My heart was pounding, and the group around us became silent. I never broke eye contact.

To my surprise, he grinned. "Yeah, we'll take em. Enzo, youse gonna sell wit Race today cause you cousins."

I was surprisingly disappointed. I wanted to sell with Bumlets, the nicer and more pleasant counterpart. I looked at him, and he nodded quickly, affirming Jack's commands.

"Okay," I responded. Bumlets quickly explained the system that bought papers, and he recommended I start out with thirty "papes". When I stepped up to the barred window, there was an ugly man standing there.

"Thirty papers, please," I asked, handing him the money Bumlets had lent me. He looked at me disgusted.

"Thirty for the immigrant," He called out to his cronies. I looked at him with contempt. What an asshole! Being an immigrant wasn't a bad thing, and here he was, calling it out like he would say "convict" or "prostitute". I moved over to the other window.

"Thirty papers for the spic," The ugly teenager gloated handing me my papers. I was about to respond with where he could stick his papers when Bumlets put a hand on my back to calm me down. I glared icily and took the papers.

Bumlets, Race, and I walked away from the building.

"Ignore em," Race said, being surprisingly nice. "Dere assholes to everyone, not just the Italians."

I nodded.

"You're going to sell with Race, today. I'll meet up with you at lunch, and we can go get the housing situation handled. Race, look out for Enzo. We don't need any trouble."

"Yeah, yeah," Race responded. He cocked his head. "Dis way."

I followed him silently for a few blocks until he looked behind him to make sure there were no newsies around.

"So, youse probably wondering why Bum and I lied about what we did last night." I nodded. "To dat, I'm gonna say don't wonder about it. If youse gotta know, Bum and I don't wanna be a target to other boroughs and enemies by saying we brothers and dat we'd do anything for each other, yada yada.

"A lot of dese kids don't have families. Most of da lot is orphans, and it would be cruel to say wese going to our parents house for a hot meal, you know? I suggest you do the same. I know Fran and Sal ain't ya parents, but dere still someone dat cares for ya. So don't rub it in dere faces. Capisce?" He ended in Italian. I nodded.

"Capisco," I responded.

"Good," He said. "Let's get to selling. You know da prices and all dat already, so now wese gonna talk about marketing techniques. Youse need to improve da truth a little. Ain't nobody gonna buy any of your shit if you just read the damn headlines. You gotta add a little flair."

I nodded.

"Watch dis." He commanded. "Da headline says 'Trolley Strike Drags On'. A little boring, eh?" I nodded. He yelled, causing me to jump. "Innocent bystanders murdered by angry mobs! Children beaten in the streets!"

Three men immediately came up to Race and bought papers. I'm sure I looked impressed, and he smirked.

"Youse try." He said. I perused the paper for an article. There was a little blip on the bottom of the first page that said 'Mayor Enjoys Night Out On the Town'. Two could play that game.

"Mayor parties the whole night with multiple women! His alcoholism brought to light! What will the city do with a immoral mayor?" I shouted at the crowd walking by. I had four people come up to me. This time, Race looked impressed. I hoped I was getting on his good side.

"Good, kid," He said. "Dats da foist lesson. Headlines don't sell papes. Newsies sell papes."

The rest of the morning passed quickly. Race didn't ask me anything about my personal life, and we spoke in English when we did speak. He was no longer resentful, but borderline pleasant. I think he was impressed that I held my own, both with Jack and with selling papers. Soon, it was lunch time, and it was thankfully time to go see Bumlets. We met outside of a building that read "Newsboys Lodging House". (Yeah, it said newsBOYS, in your face, Jack!)

"How'd it go?" Bumlets asked when Race and I approached.

"Kid's gotta talent," Race said, and I tried not to beam. Bumlets looked proud.

"Good," He said.

We walked inside of the building and towards an old man at the front desk. He had white hair and wrinkled skin, but he had kind eyes. He reminded me of one of my favorite professors at Yale. I already liked him before he spoke.

"Heya Klopp," said Race. He looked up.

"Hello, boys," He said. He leaned closer. "No one else is here right now."

The boys looked visibly relieved.

"This is our cousin," Bumlets surprisingly lied. "He just moved here from Italy, and he needs a place to stay because he's a newsie now."

"Welcome," He said to me. "It's a nickel a week. We have an open bunk for you, next to Bumlets. All I ask is that you pay rent on Friday's, and don't bring girls into the house. Name?"

"Enzo," I said. I nearly laughed out loud when he said to not bring girls into the house. The irony of it all. "Enzo Strazzulla."

He wrote my name down in his book, and then glanced up at me. "I'll show you your bunk, and you can pay on Friday."

I nodded in understanding. He stood up, and we followed him. We entered into a room that had rows of bunk beds. Thankfully, we stopped at the one closest to what I assumed was the bathroom door. It was the bottom bunk. Bumlets sat down on the bunk directly next to me.

"Here's me!" said Bumlets.

"And me," said Race, from near the middle of the room. I guess brotherly love didn't include close contact. Race was an odd bird.

I looked around, almost in wonder. A week ago, my only concern was passing my classes and lowering my running times. And now, I was stuck in 1899, living in a house with all boys, and paying 20 cents a month in rent. I had to stop myself from laughing.

"That's settled, then," said Bumlets. "Let's go to lunch."

"Tibby's?" replied Race.

"Tibby's." said Bumlets.


	7. Chapter 7

**Shoutout to my other guest review! I know I wish this did have more reviews, but "if you write it, they will come". I'm glad you like the Race/Bumlets brother dynamic. Hopefully I don't disappoint you!**

**If you are reading and are enjoying it, please follow the story so you don't miss out! You guys keep me motivated. Thanks, and enjoy! –Fighterr**

The roars of the boys were absolutely maddening when we walked into the diner, Tibby's. The place itself was small and quaint, but the boys filling up the restaurant were far from dainty. There must have been like fifty or so boys and all seemed to be shouting at one another. I observed them all as I walked pass. Bumlets was the leader heading to a back table, I was in the middle, and Race was bringing up the rear.

Or, at least I thought he was until Bumlets and I got to the back table and it was just us two. I sighed. Apparently getting to be chummy with Race was going to prove itself to be more difficult than I had originally thought. Bumlets and I sat down and he looked straight at me.

"I'm sorry about him," He said to me in Italian. "He's not very welcoming. And he should be."

"It's fine," I replied. "I understand I must be a burden, so…"

"No!" Bumlets shook his head. "You're not a burden. You're new to this country, and you deserve an equal shot to succeed here. We're just getting you on your feet."

"Thank you," I said softly. "For everything."

"It's no problem."

It was quiet for a moment, and it gave me time to regroup my Enzo way of thinking. Race's attitude made me feel like at any moment he would announce to the group of boys that I was a time traveling girl who had infiltrated their ranks purely to cause mischief. Which was only halfway true.

"So, what happened to make you move here?" asked Bumlets, surprising me. I thought for a moment.

"Probably the same as your family." I replied politically. "I love Italy and I love the culture, but it's changing a little bit. The mafia has been an increasing problem, as has the government. And after my parents died, I didn't really have anyone. My nonna and nonno on both sides had already died. My older brother had been killed. I had nothing. I had no one. So I didn't have anything to lose. I guess I still don't have much to lose." I corrected myself.

"You do," replied Bumlets. "You have something to lose now. You have Francesca and Salvatore, and me and Race."

I looked at him in surprise as he looked at me with concern.

"Race and I, we're going to look out for you. Nothing bad is going to happen to you here. We'll make sure of it."

"Thank you, Bumlets. You really don't have to go out of your way to look out for me. You're doing enough by getting me a job and a house."

"No, we're family now. We will help you, and we will help protect you."

"Protect me from what, exactly? Should I be looking out for something?"

"Well," began Bumlets. "There are many dangers when you're a newsie. You have enemy boroughs that will attack the weakest and most vulnerable members of boroughs. Then, you have the cops that will always find a reason to beat you up. You have pickpockets, gangsters, and robbers. Just shady people. You have to be aware of your surroundings, and always able to protect yourself."

"Alright," I began, a little unsure. "I can do that."

"Enzo, have you ever been in a fight?"

"Yeah, sure." I said, thinking back on my childhood. I had gotten in a few scuffles, but not a fist fight or anything.

"Yeah, but this is a new country. You have to be prepared. Brother, I'm going to teach you how to fight."

"How to fight?" I echoed. "You're going to teach me how to fight."

"Yeah," said Bumlets. "We'll have an hour or so after we sell the afternoon edition before we go to bed. I'll take you up to the roof, and we'll practice. But, let's keep this between you and me. I'm probably the only one that would somewhat take it easy on you."

I nodded, and still wondered at the dangers he felt he needed to prepare me for. The notion of enemy newsies and thugs didn't quite feel real for me. It was nice of Bumlets to be worried, but did he have a reason to worry? If this environment was bad enough for "Enzo" to learn how to fight properly, how much preparation and security would "Elena" need? How did girls even function in this society?

I let my worries drift away as Bumlets and I ordered food, and it came quickly. We ate fast and hungrily, and when we finished, we walked back to the place where we had bought papers in the morning. The same goons were working the window, and I scowled darkly. It was going to be a tough time to deal with them everyday.

This time, Bumlets and I walked away with our papers before Jack could command me to work with Race, and Race didn't care to follow us. It was a much more pleasant time selling with him, and time passed quickly. I asked him about the other boys and he told me about his best friends. He amused me with funny stories, and it was hard for me not to laugh in my girly voice, but to keep it as a chuckle. We walked to the lodging house where sweet Kloppman had made us all stew and stale bread. We took it and ate. And then, lucky for me, it was time for Bumlets and I to steal away to the roof to battle it out.

It started out easy enough- he went through the basic punches and dodges. We took turns practicing offense and defense, though it was a pretty slow pace. I was a bit more comfortable with offense just because it was easier for me to throw my arms than it was to get wrists and knuckles thrown at my face (and hat). Then we started to spar a little bit and by the time it was over, I was completely out of breath and hunched over. Bumlets was barely winded.

"You're not bad, Enzo," he said. "You're good for a beginner, and we'll work on everything. But, my advice, if you get into a fight right now, the best thing would be for you to run far, far away."

I barked a laugh and rolled my eyes, half heartedly throwing an arm out to catch him in his stomach. He dodged easily and gestured towards the fire escape.

"Let's get some sleep," suggested Bumlets. I nodded in agreement and we entered into the sleeping room. I made brief eye contact with Race on the way to my bed but he didn't look very happy, so I continued on. A few of the boys waved their hands to acknowledge meeting me earlier. I nodded back. I climbed onto my little bunk and pulled the threadbare blanket over my body. My eyes drifted towards a group of younger boys across the room. There were 3 of them and the oldest must not have been more than seven years old. The youngest looked about 5.

They were playing with cards, something that looked like go fish. I smiled looking at them, my maternal instincts rearing their ugly head. I quickly stopped smiling and dropped my head to my table. Being a boy was going to be a bit harder than I thought.

"Night, Enzo," said Bumlets.

"Lights out!" Kloppman called, coming in to blow out some of the lanterns placed around the room.

"G'night," I murmured, before falling into a deep sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you to the follow I got on this story! Hopefully you continue to enjoy it. Please R&R! –Fighterr**

The next few days were a blur, but at least they were a routine. I got up a half hour before the other boys and stole off to the bathroom. Then, I sold papers with Bumlets, ate lunch with everyone, and then sold papers again. Bumlets and I would have our daily fight, and then bed. It was actually pretty nice and I had become friends with a few of the other boys.

I really didn't mess with Jack at all. He was a little intimidating and he scared me. He was a good leader but I definitely didn't want to get on his bad side. Blink and I had become friends, which was nice. He was a good kid and funny. Mush was another good one and he stayed true to his name- anything having to do with girls or love, he was pure mush. It was hysterical. Crutchy was my other ally in the group. He was caring and sensitive, more so than Mush. A lot had happened to him in his life, I think, to make him so aware. I had to be a bit more careful around him.

It was Sunday before I knew it. Bum got me up super early in the morning, and we snuck out of the fire escape, Race trailing behind us. After making sure no one was following us, we briskly walked towards Little Italy. It must not have been more than four in the morning, but we were all in high spirits. Even Race!

We talked excitedly about the food we were gonna eat all day long, but I was mostly excited to bathe. And let my hair down. And brush it out. And unwrap my chest. I don't think I had ever been more excited. We approached our building, and went to our separate doors. I knocked on the door softly, and within seconds an excited Francesca was throwing it open. She enveloped me into a giant hug that I gladly returned.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're home. Tell me everything," She exclaimed, still embracing me.

"Oddio, Francesca, let her inside at least," Sal joked, moving into my line of sight. I smiled at him, and went to hug him. "Good to have you home, principessa."

Francesca closed and locked the door, and we sat down at the table. Fran and Sal had prepared a platter of pastries for me, which I consumed with a great intensity. I hadn't known how hungry I was!

"The guys are really nice," I said, my girly voice sounding so odd to my own ears. "I'm really good at selling papers!"

"Of course you are," said Francesca. "Are you in love yet?"

"Oh my god," I spat out. "Absolutely not. Boys are disgusting in their natural state. I think I'll be single forever."

Francesca and Sal laughed. Sal became serious as he leaned forward.

"No one knows, do they?" His eyes were dark. I shook my head vigorously.

"Absolutely not. I'm quite the actress," I responded. He nodded, looking relieved.

"Agostina stopped by this week," said Francesca, making a face. I giggled.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, I told her that you were looking for work in New Jersey," she said, smirking and blinking her faux innocent eyes. Sal smiled at his wife.

"I'm so happy to be home," I sighed, leaning back in my chair. "But, can I please please please take a bath?"

"Of course!" Francesca exclaimed. "I'll heat up the water."

I walked towards the bathroom. It was pretty small- a toilet, a sink, a mirror, and a very small porcelain tub, but it was perfect to me. Francesca turned on the water on the highest setting. The water began flowing, which was music to my ears. She ran out of the bathroom, and then quickly back again. She threw some herbs and salts into the bath and winked at me.

"A little something to make you feel like a girl," she said. She set down a bottle of lotion on the sink, and soap next to the tub. She also brought in a towel, and then she headed out of the door. "I'll see you in an hour. Scrub away!"

As soon as the door closed, I was out of my clothes in a flash. I threw my undergarments, chest bandages, pants, shirt, and hat on the ground. I jumped into the steaming tub and ducked my head underwater, scrubbing on my scalp vigorously. My head was sore from being tied and greased back, but it felt almost heavenly to wash it.

After I finished washing my hair, I laid back into the tub and relaxed. I scrubbed my whole body with soap, to the point I was nearly raw. My hair hung past my waist in wet, black curtains in the water and I relished in the girlyness of it. I felt like a woman again, and all it took was an hour in the bath to wash away Enzo and bring back Elena.

Once the water became too cold, I got out and wrapped the towel around me. I dried off and then lathered myself with lotion. I peeked out of the door and saw a fresh sweater and pants on the ground which I took gratefully. Once I had changed, I exited the bathroom and walked into the kitchen. Francesca and Sal were there in their Sunday best.

"You guys going to mass?" I asked.

"Yes, Elena," began Francesca. "We would implore you to go with us but-"

"I'd rather not take the risk of meeting the infamous Agostina. Is it okay if I stay here?" I asked, interrupting her so she didn't feel bad telling me I couldn't go. She looked relieved.

"Of course, principessa. Go sleep for a while, you've had a long week," said Sal. I looked at him gratefully.

"You guys have fun," I yawned. "Pray for me."

"We always do," responded Francesca. I was half joking when I had said it, but her response made me feel loved. I smiled at her and then retreated to my bedroom. I got underneath the covers, and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I was awoken a few hours later by someone banging on the front door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys, I hope someone is still reading this story! If you are, please go ahead and press that little review button right at the bottom of the page… Fighterr**

I have a theory. It's not been proven by scientists yet, but only because they're probably busy with cancer research. This is my theory; you should never ever wake up someone while they're in a deep sleep. Because, they will forget everything they should remember. And they will do something stupid. Something so incredibly stupid. Like, press a self-destruct button, shoot someone, or answer the door. Or answer the freaking door.

I can't believe I did it. I think I even pushed my long hair out of my sleepy eyes as I walked. I didn't even look through the little peephole. I just wanted the banging to stop, so I went and opened up the door.

I'm sure I looked like a mess. Sleepy dark green eyes, disheveled black hair, sagging paints exposing one of my tan hips, sweater hanging gently off of my shoulder- I didn't even want to look in a mirror. But it wasn't the mirror I should have been worried about. It was the muscular, dark haired man standing before me.

"Um." Was all that came out of my mouth. He stared at me with wide eyes. I stared back, just as shocked.

"I'm looking for Francesca and Salvatore Bartolotti. I must have the wrong apartment," He said, in accented English. "Sorry to disturb you, signora."

"Oh, no," I said, unable to stop the words coming out of my mouth. "You have the right apartment."

"Oh," said the man.

"I'm just a friend. They're letting me stay here." I said, trying hard not to reuse the "cousin" excuse again.

"Oh," said the man again.

"Can I help you?" I said, trying to be business-y. I crossed my arms in front of me. He averted his eyes, like he was scared of insulting my virtue.

"I am here to drop off a package, and speak with Salvatore." He said. I glanced quickly at the clock in the kitchen.

"Well," I began. "They should be back any minute now. Do you want to come in?" I asked, his eyes still averted.

"It would not be proper," said the man. I glared at him.

"It's honestly fine. I'm about to make coffee anyways." I said.

"Well, if you are sure," said the man. I nodded, and opened the door further so he could come in.

"You can sit," I said, gesturing towards the table. He nodded and put his package onto the table before sitting. It was a medium sized box wrapped in brown paper. "What's your name?"

"Umberto D'Agata." Umberto said. "And you, signora?"

"Signorina." I corrected softly. "You're Sicilian, aren't you?" I asked in Italian. He looked concerned.

"Yes," he started. "But, I'm not one of them. I promise I'm not in the mafia. I think it's disgusting and-"

"Relax, Berto," I joked. "I'm Sicilian too. And I'm also not connected."

"You are Siclian-" He didn't get to finish his question, because at that moment, while I was bustling around in the kitchen trying to make coffee, Sal and Francesca came in.

"We're home, principessa!" Salvatore practically sung as he closed the door. He stopped dead at the image of Umberto at the table, and me in the kitchen with my long hair down.

"Salvatore!" Umberto announced, standing up to hug him. Sal returned the hug but looked at me with panicked eyes. Francesca mirrored him. "Your family friend has just let me in so I could wait for you."

The phrase 'family friend' calmed down Francesca and Sal. We all looked relieved, I'm sure.

"Sure, sure," Salvatore said.

"Coffee?" Francesca murmured to me while she walked over. I nodded. She mouthed to me 'What happened' and I shrugged.

"He woke me up," I whispered. "By banging on the door. I didn't even know I didn't have a hat on until he was staring at me."

"It's fine," she whispered. "He works in Queens. He isn't connected, and he really only knows us in Little Italy. Sal was friends with his older brother- they met on the boat over here. His older brother died last year, so Sal has been seeing him every week or so."

I nodded, relieved. As long as Bumlets, Race, and the other guys didn't catch wind of the 'family friend' staying with Francesca and Sal, I think I would be alright. I moved faster as Francesca taught me how to make coffee, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of the handsome Umberto at the table, laughing with Sal.

He had serious, dark eyes, and a full head of brown hair. He was tan, like me, but so muscular like he had worked in the shipyards or a farm or chopping trees. He had a nice smile.

"He's handsome," I whispered to Francesca. She smiled.

"Yes, he is." She agreed. We brought coffee over to the table for the men. They thanked us and went back to talking. They didn't really acknowledge us after that, so we went back into the kitchen to start a large Sunday dinner. Umberto was invited to stay, which he at first refused, and then agreed.

We cooked all afternoon, and in the evening, we all ate together. He was serious and didn't joke much. He seemed much older than his 20 years. I studied him, and I think he studied me as I looked away. He left with a handshake for Sal, a hug for Francesca, and a smile for me. He turned around before he walked out the door.

"I didn't get your name, signorina," he said softly.

"Elena." I replied, smiling.

"Will you be here next Sunday?" asked Umberto.

"Yes," I felt myself saying. I felt myself giggling. What the hell?

"See you then," said Umberto, walking out. I closed the door, and turned to Francesca and Sal who were looking at me with curious smiles.

"That was weird." I said.

"That was the beginning." Francesca said knowingly.

"Of what?" I asked.

"Of life." Francesca said, holding onto Sal's shoulders.

I wished I hadn't asked.

Needless to say, I was ecstatic to transform into Enzo, and I left the following morning without any more questions to ask.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you to my guest review! I'm glad you think it's wonderful. If you haven't followed my story, please click on that button! Reviews are the best motivator. You guys rock! Fighterr**

I've always known I wasn't the heroine of stories. Growing up, we all wish we can be the star of the show and save the world, but in reality, I know I wasn't. I probably would have been sorted into Slytherin because I'm more cunning than I am brave. I would definitely not have been Dauntless, but probably Erudite. There's no way I could have won the Hunger Games. I would have been killed off right away.

But on a Tuesday afternoon, sparring with Bumlets on the roof, I felt more like Katniss and Tris and Hermione than I ever had before. My body felt good and my muscles felt hard. I dodged Bumlets with newly formed skill, and I learned to strike at the precise moment. After Bumlets put up his hands to signify the end of the fight, I wasn't breathing like a linebacker like I used to. It was only my second week in this weird time lapse, and I was owning it. I glowed.

"You're getting good, Enzo," said Bumlets, his hand on his knees. "You're quick. That's what's gonna save your life."

I nodded, trying to keep my smile under control. If Bumlets knew I was a girl, would he have been as supportive? I brushed off the thought.

"Let's get some sleep," suggested Bumlets. I nodded.

"I'll be right in," I said, craving some time alone. He went inside as I leaned against the fire escape, one of my legs hanging over the side. It was quiet as I looked over New York City. It was beautiful. Really beautiful.

I was surprised I hadn't started to miss home yet. Maybe it was because I wasn't really sure how I got here, or maybe it was because my last moments in the modern world were spent being attacked by my ex boyfriend.

I let myself think about Mack for a moment. I had convinced myself to like him, I realized. He was a low life who wasn't worth any of the trouble he caused. The tears and anger and fear he gave me wasn't worth it. None of it was. He didn't know what he wanted from life, and the only thing we had in common was that we were both Yale students. I nearly let out a bark of laughter.

If I was ever going back to Yale… From what I remembered from textbooks, women didn't even go to high school in this time period. But, I couldn't worry about that. I couldn't worry about tomorrow. All I needed to focus on was today, right now, this moment. I headed inside to go to bed, and I fell asleep quickly.

Unbeknownst to me, I should have been very, very worried about tomorrow.

The first thing I heard when I walked sleepily up to the distribution center was noise. Loud noise and loud voices- not something I was excited to experience this early. And then, I looked to the group of boys and saw Race and Jack yelling. I panicked. Was something wrong with Race?

I ran up to them, pushing my way through the newsies. I found myself next to Blink.

"What's happening?" I yelled. He shook his head and his fists.

"They jacked up the price! They jacked up the price and I can barely eat as it is!" Blink yelled. I looked at him in disbelief.

And then all I heard was "STRIKE" yelled by everyone. I was pushed along in the crowd, struggling to get out. I looked around me and saw that one of the youngest newsies had began to cry with confusion. In that moment I became a vicious mother bear.

I pushed back boys- older and younger, and then I scooped up the youngest newsie into my arms and ran towards the sidewalk. He held on to me tight, burying his little face into my shoulder. I didn't stop running until we were far enough away from the action to breathe, but close enough to hear what was going on.

There was yelling and conflict and then the singing of what sounded like a battle hymn to me. Then, Jack was writing on the chalkboard where they put the headlines, and then a group meeting.

When things had quieted down for the meeting, I walked towards the front, holding my little newsie in my arms. He had told me his name was Owl, and I told him my name was Enzo. He didn't seem like he wanted to leave my arms, ever.

"Alright, Brooklyn? Who wants Brooklyn?" Jack said. "Come on, Spot Conlon?"

I had no idea what was in Brooklyn, or who Spot Conlon was, but by the way they were acting, he wasn't a stand up guy.

Maybe this was my chance to prove myself. Maybe this is what I needed.

"I'll do it," I felt myself saying. Everyone looked at me in shock, including Owl. Jack nodded his somewhat surprised approval. He pointed at David and Boots to go with me, and he decided to come along. Boots and David and I stood out to the side, and Bumlets came up to me.

"You have no idea what you're doing, Enzo," growled Bumlets.

"It's fine," I brushed him off. I handed him Owl. "Take care of Owl. Take him to the lodging house. He can stay with Kloppman."

"Okay," agreed Bumlets, who was a bit startled by my commanding voice. "I'll take him to the lodging house, but you gotta keep your head down. You don't want Spot to remember you. Even if he is on our side, he can and will destroy you."

Owl looked like he was about to cry again, so I kissed his forehead.

'It's okay, Owl. I'll be back in a little while. Stay with Kloppman, okay?" I asked, he nodded his obedience. "Good boy, Owl. Bye, Bumlets," I said, being dragged away by Boots.

"Be safe," Bumlets said. I nodded, and then looked away from him. If Bumlets was this worried, I should have been, too. But, I wasn't. I was excited to see Brooklyn. I was good at keeping my head down. I wasn't worried.

And, yet again, for the second time in two days, I should have been worried. Very worried.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you to my guest review and my review from TheWorldWillKnow! I definitely agree cutting off her hair would be easier, but she's impartial to her hair just like I am hehehe. Read on, my readers! Fighterr**

The first thing I noticed about Spot Conlon were his eyes. They were so beautiful- clear, bright sea foam green, glowing against his tan skin. They were bright and clear, and I could easily get lost in them if I tried. The second thing I noticed about Spot Conlon was his fists coming straight for my face.

The walk over to Brooklyn had been tense, but with David, I wasn't the only new kid. I was silent for the majority of the time, the only talking came from Jack and Boots. The only things directed at me were muttered of warnings not to mess with Spot.

We walked across the bridge, and I noticed boys hiding in the shadows that jumped away as we passed them. They were Spot's birds, Jack told me. I didn't like it. It reminded me of the mafia.

Everything went smooth with the communication with Spot, the Brooklyn king, until he denied to help because he wasn't sure if we were serious or not. The boys were dignified in their response, but apparently nobody told me that rolling my eyes was a capital offence.

So I rolled my eyes.

"Hey," Spot spat. "Youse kid. What ya name?"

"Enzo," I said, my voice low.

"Youse tink youse can roll ya eyes at me, huh?" spat Spot again.

"Me? Rolling my eyes?" I responded, panicking a bit. "Nah, I was just trying to find your courage, seeing as you don't have it immediately on your person."

The crowd was silent. Jack's mouth was open. Boots look terrified. David looked terrified, but also slightly amused.

"Youse tink dat I don't have courage," exclaimed Spot. "Ise gonna give you a chance to apologize, because youse foreign and all. Im da king of Brooklyn, kiddo."

"Oh," I began, pissed off now. "My apologies to the king of Brooklyn. I hope you find your courage, soon."

I dodged the first few punches like a champ. But, one of his left hook-jab-uppercuts caught me right underneath my left eye. I recovered and kicked him in the ribs. After another minute, he caught me in the nose, and I heard a sickening crack. The boys pulled us apart. We were both breathing heavily, glaring at each other, blood dripping down my nose- when he smiled. That asshole kid smiled at me.

"Youse a good fighter, kid. Youse sure youse don't wanna stay in Brooklyn?" asked Spot. I felt a mix of pride and disgust.

"Nah," I responded.

"Maybe youse is ready to take on Pulitzer," pondered Spot. "We'll be in contact."

Jack nodded, practically glowing with pride.

"Thanks, Spot." Jack responded.

"Bye Jacky boy. Boots. Brain." Spot looked at me. "See ya, Prizefighter. Youse welcome in Brooklyn anytime."

I tried not to beam.

I nodded instead, and smirked. He mirrored my expression.

We walked to the bridge in silence, and then they all broke out in laughter. Jack hugged me and spun me around like a little kid. Boots was on his knees laughing so hard, and Davey beamed at me.

"Look like you won yourself a nickname, Prizefighter," Jack said.

"I didn't mean to cause trouble," I started.

"Whatever, Prize," Boots said, still laughing. "Ya did good."

"I'm buying ya dinner tonight," Jack said, wrapping his arm around me.

The walk back to Manhattan was light hearted, considering we were all involved with a strike that could easily turn bloody.

We walked into Tibby's, beaming. I had forgotten about my broken nose and bloody face until Bumlets and Race looked at me, horrified.

"What happened?" They asked at the same time, mouths open.

"Prizefighter here got into it wit Spot Conlon," Jack said.

"Prizefighter?" Bumlets asked, a grin creeping onto his face.

"Prizefighter, Prize, whatever." Boots cut in. "He got Spot to consider to help us."

"Damn," Race said, looking nearly proud.

"Wasn't a big deal," I said. Bumlets put a hand on my shoulder.

"Let's get ya cleaned up." He said, walking me towards the bathroom. "I'm proud of you," whispered Bumlets as we walked.

I turned around to see Race looking at me in awe.

"So is Race," added Bumlets.

I beamed hard.

"Thanks for teaching me how to fight," I said, barely a whisper.

"That's what family is for, Prize," he said, cleaning my face.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Family."


End file.
